


going to the mat

by blueink3



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Exes, Feelings, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Post-Meet the Parents, who are friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 23:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20804912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueink3/pseuds/blueink3
Summary: [Rachel]Your mom said she met David.He stops dead in the middle of the sidewalk, but before he can form a reply, another text is coming through:[Rachel]Finally.'Yeah, yeah.' he gripes back fondly, before staring at the screen and letting out a sigh.'I know.' He hopes she can sense his change in tone through the ether.Or, Rachel and Patrick have a chat after Meet the Parents.





	going to the mat

His phone alarm goes off and he leans over to stop the beeping before it can wake his (adorably) snoring boyfriend. And he does snore, make no mistake, despite how many times he claims the opposite: 

_ “Um, David Rose does not snore.” _

_ “Oh and will David Rose continually refer to himself in the third person? Because Patrick Brewer might take issue with that.” _

Sliding out of bed in a way that doesn’t jostle the mattress, a move he’s mastered ever since David starting spending nights with him, Patrick tucks the covers back up and pads to the bathroom, flipping the kettle on as he goes. 

He showers quickly and wraps a towel around his waist, preparing his tea in the kitchen before quietly heading back to the bedroom and pulling out his clothes. It takes every ounce of will power he has not to drop the towel and crawl back into bed, especially when his boyfriend’s ass looks so delicious under the sheets like that. 

_ Focus, Brewer. _

He gets dressed, eyes continually darting to the bed, before padding over to David’s side (David has a _ side_) and carefully leaning over, bracing his hands on the mattress. 

“I’ve got the store this morning,” he murmurs against the soft skin of David’s cheek. “Go back to sleep.” 

“Mkay,” David mumbles, and Patrick smiles, knowing he won’t remember any of that when he does deign to roll out of bed. Grabbing a piece of paper, he quickly scribbles a note and leaves it on David’s side table: 

_ Bring tea whenever you wake up? Love you. - P _

He knows it’ll be a couple hours yet and he’ll be in need of more caffeine by then. 

It’s been two days since the most terrifying and amazing and emotional night of his life, and he’s still in the state of mind where he’d let David get away with just about anything, late mornings included. His parents left yesterday, all hugs and smiles and kisses and promises to be back soon. Patrick even offered to come to them next time, which is… something. He didn’t realize how much he missed them and home until they were right there in front of him, offering him the love and support he had always hoped they would. They always _ had_, to be honest. 

He grabs his keys and drives the short distance to the store. He could walk, but he hasn’t decided yet if he’s going to pick up groceries on the way home. He promised David bolognese this week. 

His phone buzzes in the cupholder, but he waits until he pulls up behind the Apothecary and gets out of the car before checking it. Rachel’s name is on the screen. 

It’s a more often and more welcome occurrence these days. 

**[Rachel]**  
**Your mom said she met David. **

He stops dead in the middle of the sidewalk, but before he can form a reply, another text is coming through: 

**[Rachel]**  
**Finally. **

** _Yeah, yeah. _ **he gripes back fondly, before staring at the screen and letting out a sigh. 

** _I know. _ **He hopes she can sense his change in tone through the ether. 

**[Rachel]**  
**You okay? **

As always, she’s more perceptive that he thinks he ever gave her credit for. He stares at her text for a moment before tapping her name and hitting ‘audio,’ putting the phone to his ear. She answers on the third ring just as he’s unlocking the door. 

“Goodness, a phone call. Shit really must have hit the fan.” 

He laughs softly and shakes his head, even though she can’t see him. “No. I just - wanted to say thank you.” 

“For what?” 

He flips the lights on and heads towards the back room. “Not telling anyone.” 

He can hear her inhale. “It wasn’t my secret to tell.” 

“Well, you didn’t have to do that. Especially considering - ”

“Hey,” she interrupts. “We said it was in the past. Water under the bridge. We’re not going back.”

He smiles softly, remembering the words she said to him in a motel room that looked entirely too much like David’s, that made his heart ache to be in room 7 instead of room 4, that made him regret every decision he made that ended up with him not telling David about his past:_ “Patrick, I’ve loved you since I was 16. I’ll never stop loving you. But I can love you differently now.” _

“Right.” He powers up the computer and places his to-go mug of tea on the counter. They’ve gotten a couple of online orders that he can take care of before they officially open. 

“So you told your mom I knew?” 

“Yeah, we - uh, we had breakfast and I told them everything.” 

“That must have felt good.” 

God, it did. He didn’t realize how much weight he was carrying until he shared the burden. “She was very indignant on your behalf,” he says ruefully. “And David’s.”

Rachel laughs. “I’ll have to thank her next time.”

Patrick logs into the computer, tucking the phone in between his ear and shoulder, rustling the connection, which is why he almost misses what she says next:

“I get it, you know.” 

His fingers slow their typing. “Get what?” 

“I know it’s water under the bridge, but I get wanting a new start. I don’t blame you for that. At least not now.” 

He’s quiet and she’s quiet, but it’s not the kind of quiet that claws at the walls. It’s content. The kind that hovers on a rainy afternoon as books are read and candles are burned. 

“Rach, I think - ” Should he do this?

“Yeah?” 

He should do this. “I think I want to ask him to marry me.” 

“Oh,” she breathes and he winces. Telling your ex-fiancee that you want a new fiance is not… usually done. 

_ Incorrect_, David’s voice says. 

“Is that… okay?” He shouldn’t have done this.

She snorts. “Are you asking?” 

“I don’t know! I don’t know what I’m doing, Rach.” 

She outright laughs at him now. “Clearly.” 

He groans and gives up the online orders as a lost cause, heading back to the floor and pacing the length of the shop. He grabs a mop so it looks like he’s doing _ something _ should someone peek in through the window. 

“Do you love him?” she asks and his grip on the mop handle tightens. 

“More than anything.”

He knows that _ More than you _ is somehow buried in there and he winces again. Luckily, she doesn’t call him out on it. 

“And he loves you?” 

He swallows hard, thinking of all that David did for him two days ago. “Rach, David…” But he can’t get through it. The sheer _ enormity _ of David’s love for him nearly buckles his knees and he somehow gets himself on the table in the middle of the room, clinging to the mop handle and letting his feet swing just so he doesn’t go crashing down to the floor. 

“P, what’s wrong?” She hasn’t called him that in years, and her voice is soft. Welcoming. It’s the tone she used when he crawled back into bed, sheepish after another failed intimate moment. She never judged him for that, and he doesn’t think he’d ever be able to put into words how grateful he was for her. 

“You don’t know what he did for me the other day.”

“Then tell me,” she whispers. 

He smiles at the memory, at the feel of David’s arms around his shoulders and the facial contortions he made as Patrick murmured, _ “So how long have they known?” _

_ “I’m sorry?” _

_ “My parents. How long have they known? About us.” _

_ “Um, I don’t know - I don’t know what you’re talking about.” _

_ “David. I know my parents. They’re not good actors. They knew about us, right?” _

_ David’s head tilted back and his nose scrunched right on the bridge and Patrick just wanted to kiss that adorable crease away. Or, it would have been adorable if David hadn’t looked like he was in physical pain. _

_ “Okay. My dad might have told them, but he - he thought they knew.” _

_ They should have. _ ** _And that’s on you, Brewer._ ** _ But because Patrick was Patrick and David was David, he couldn’t resist a little tease. _

_ “And the gift basket that you gave them that I’m _ ** _hoping_ ** _ you paid for - that had nothing to do with you trying to smooth things over with them?” _

_ “It was just a very messy day,” his voice wobbled the slightest bit and Patrick dug his fingers into his waist, grounding him, “and I was - I was trying to detangle things and - and just make everything okay.” _

_ Patrick stared at him, trying to count the ways he could possibly make it up to him. He was at a loss. “Yeah, well you made everything okay.” _

“Damn, P,” she breathes after he’s finished recounting the day that wouldn’t look out of place in a British stage farce. But he wasn’t lying when he told David it was one of the happiest nights of his life. 

“He’s… everything. And I can’t - I can’t imagine how hard it was to hear that I hadn’t told them about him.” The memory of David’s face in that moment still manages to do things to his heart - things that resemble taking a baseball bat to a piece of fine china, perhaps. He imagines it will continue to feel like that for a very long time. 

She gusts a sigh over the line and he can picture the expression on her face perfectly: soft, but with more than a hint of _ you idiot_. 

“Yeah, I know,” he murmurs. “I have to stop that.” 

“Marry him, Patrick. Quickly, before someone else snatches him up with promises of _ good _Mariah Carey serenades at karaoke night.” 

He groans. “I never should have told you about that.” 

“What, and deny me the opportunity of holding your absolute _ butchering _ of Emotions over your head for the rest of your days?” 

He laughs, feeling lighter than he had a moment ago. But something still hovers on the periphery - a hushed feeling that taps on his shoulder, whispering his fears into his ear. 

“Let yourself be happy, P,” Rachel says, knowing him far too well again. 

“I just - I don’t know what my parents will say.”

“What do you mean? You said it went well. Better than well, actually.” 

“Well, yeah, but I mean - they just met David 48 hours ago. They just found out I’m _ gay _ 48 hours ago. Marriage is… marriage.”

“Eloquent,” she blurts and he laughs. “Patrick, your mom is over the moon. I could tell she was trying to hold back for my sake, but my God. She loves David.” 

He smiles down at the floor they’ve each scrubbed on their hands and knees because they cared so damn much. “Yeah?” 

“Yes. Let yourself be happy,” she repeats, because she knows he needs to hear it. “David makes you happy.” 

He almost scoffs. Understatement of the century, that. 

The quiet settles again. 

“Ben asked me out,” she says, by way of redirection. She sounds almost sheepish about it, blurting it out like a secret she shouldn’t tell. Like a truth that’s been itching to escape. 

He frowns and knows why. “Ben? My Ben?” 

“_Your _ Ben? Somethin’ you wanna tell me there?” she teases and he laughs again. 

“No. We - we were just friends.” 

“Best friends,” she reminds. As if he needs it. 

He’s known Ben since he came up to him in Little League and informed him in no uncertain terms that he was playing first base. Which was fine, because Patrick preferred second anyway. Then Ben shared his peanut butter and jelly sandwich and that was that. 

“I know.”

“How long has it been?”

“Since we talked?” Two years, one month, three weeks, and five days. “I don’t know,” he says instead. “Too long.” 

“He’d be happy for you.” 

“Would he?” The question is out before he can swallow it back. He’s devoted too many hours to wondering what his friends from his old life would think of his new one. His _ right _ one. The fact that he hasn’t landed on a definitive answer scares him. 

“I wouldn’t be considering dating him if that was a reasonable question.” 

That warms something inside him. That she’d defend him like that. 

“So you’re considering it.”

“Do you not want me to?” she asks, and it’s sincere.

“Rach. God, no. You - you should do what you want. Don’t ask me. I don’t - ” matter. “If you want to date Ben, date Ben.” 

“But you’d - be okay with it?” 

“Rachel. I’ll be okay with anything you do.” 

He hears her sharply inhale. This was more than he wanted to reveal at 9am on a weekday, but he’d go to the mat for her, no doubt about it. 

“You rob a Vegas casino, well - I may not be there with the bail money, but I’m sure we can scrounge up a Cadillac you can borrow as a getaway car.” 

“My very own Danny Ocean,” she laughs, which was his intention. “Let me know how it goes?” 

“How what goes?” 

“The proposal, idiot.” 

“Oh,” he breathes, feeling winded again. He’ll have to get used to the idea if he plans on following through. And Patrick Brewer never leaves a project unfinished. “I could just be mean and make you wait to see if an invitation arrives.” She’s silent for a moment and he panics. “That was a joke.” 

“Patrick, I don’t think it’s copacetic to invite your ex to your wedding.” 

“I want you there. We both do.” _ Would. You haven’t asked him yet. _

“David doesn’t know me.” 

But he does. He remembers sitting on the floor of the back room, backs up against a box of lotion, legs extended out in front of them, hands clasped tightly together. Tina Turner was still playing on a loop in his head and Patrick didn’t think he’d ever been as in love as he was then. 

Then his birthday party happened. 

“I told him about our talk after the barbecue. Lord knows he probably grilled Alexis the second after we left, anyway.” He smiles. “I told him all about us. He likes you.” 

“He does?” 

“He does. Don’t tell him I told you, but he’s already hoarding products to send you. He likes to think he’s being sneaky about it, but - ” and at that moment, the bell over the door rings. “Speak of the devil.” 

David stands there looking bleary-eyed, but impeccably dressed, dropping his bag, walking over, stepping in between Patrick’s knees, and burying his face in his neck. 

“Who’s on th’phone?” he muffles. 

Patrick smiles, placing a kiss on his head. “Rachel.” 

“Morning, David,” she says. 

“She says ‘good morning.” He holds the phone up to David’s cheek. 

“Hi Rachel,” he murmurs. 

“He’s pre-coffee,” Patrick says, taking the phone back. “Don’t take it personally.” 

“I’ll let you go. You should call him,” she urges. The _ Ben _ remains unsaid.

“Yeah. You should date him.” 

There’s a pause. “Yeah?”

He smiles. “Yeah.” The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes what a good pair they make. 

“Bye, P. Don’t screw it up!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles. “Bye, Rach.” 

He clicks the phone off and blindly tosses it on the table behind him so he can fully wrap his arms around the man burrowing into his chest. 

“Did you get her mailing address for the basket?” he mumbles. 

“No. Next time.” He presses another kiss. “You’re here early.” 

“Mm. Missed you.” 

Patrick swallows hard, blinking back tears and blaming it on the non-existent dust he never got around to cleaning. 

He’s definitely marrying this man. 

Doesn’t matter that he forgot to bring him a tea. 

Again.


End file.
